


TMA FFA Fills

by Yashitsu



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Background Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Dream Sex, F/M, Implied Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard, Incest, Knifeplay, M/M, Other, Trans Jonah Magnus, Uncle/Nephew Incest, beholding kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23988367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yashitsu/pseuds/Yashitsu
Summary: FFA "100 words of..." fills of varying length. Mostly noncon. Content varies by chapter, read chapter summaries for descriptions. Pairings and prompts listed in chapter titles.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims/Original Female Character(s), Evan Lukas/Peter Lukas, Julia Montauk/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, The Beholding/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 20
Kudos: 97





	1. Jon/Elias, 100 words of affectionate noncon

**Author's Note:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> Set some time post-160. Contains: rape/noncon, praise kink, mind reading, Elias airdropping things to Jon

“Perfect, Jon. You’ve done so, so well.”

“Elias—“ Jon tries to scramble backwards out of Elias’ hold, but Elias’ hand on Jon’s shoulder stops him, gently guiding Jon back down onto Elias’ cock.

“Shh.” Elias curls in close to Jon, runs a hand through his hair. “We deserve this. You deserve this.” Elias wipes away a tear that’s running down Jon’s face, kissing his cheek afterwards. “We’ve created something beautiful together.”

“It isn’t,” Jon says, trying not to look at the chaos outside, but he can’t, he can’t close his eyes, he sees everything. “It’s horrific. I hate it.” Elias sighs.

“No, Jon. You can’t lie to me.” Elias doesn’t sound like he’s gloating or chastising Jon, just stating a fact. “You don’t hate it.” The worst part is that Elias is right. Jon doesn’t hate it. Elias is moving slowly inside Jon, sending little sparks of pleasure through him, and Jon doesn’t hate those either. The hellscape surrounding him, Elias inside him, it all feels right. It all feels good. Elias kisses Jon as his hand finds Jon’s cock, and Jon moans into Elias’ mouth as Elias strokes him, his thrusts increasing in intensity. It feels so good and it shouldn’t because Jon has failed—

“No. You’ve succeeded.” Elias presses his forehead against Jon’s, and suddenly Jon is flooded with Elias’ emotions, pride and admiration and joy and pleasure and so much _love,_ love for _Jon,_ and Jon comes with a helpless cry. Elias follows very soon after. He doesn’t pull out afterwards, just lies there on top of Jon, breathing slow and calm. As Jon lies still, softly weeping from every one of his unblinking eyes, he Knows it is the truth when Elias again whispers to him that he is perfect.


	2. Jonah/Beholding, 100 Words of Eldritch Somnophilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> Contains: dubcon, trans Jonah, briefly mentioned fear of transphobia, briefly mentioned social dysphoria, beholding kink, dream sex, generally weird eldritch sex

Jonah thought, at first, that he had awoken in the middle of the night again. His dreams as of late had been dark and strange, and though he was sleeping several hours less than he used to, the nights felt very long. He remembered nearly every detail, was the thing. Hours of wandering bizarre places, museums full of artifacts and paintings that hurt to look at, libraries filled with books in languages Jonah did not know but was beginning to understand, and an endless wasteland filled with fear and suffering, all under the ceaseless gaze of the thing Jonah now knew he would forever be inextricable from.

It was the unmistakable feeling of that very gaze that made Jonah realize he was still dreaming. He must have only just fallen asleep, as he remembered nothing that had come before this save for lying in his bed. In the dream, he was still in his bed. There were only two differences from his room in the waking world. First, the ceiling of the room was gone, allowing him to see the massive eye in the sky that had come to be a fixture in his dreams staring at him. Second, he was entirely naked. Embarrassed by his exposure, Jonah tried to burrow under the bedclothes only to find that he could not move. A jolt of fear lanced through him. This was new. Before this, Jonah had always been free to wander, to observe whatever he wished. Now, he was pinned, exposed fully to the sight of a thing that would gladly flay him open just to look at his insides. At that moment, the single piece of knowledge Jonah wished he possessed was what was going to happen to him, and the eye he gazed fearfully into did not reveal that to him.

Jonah gasped as he felt something touch him. He couldn’t move his head to see what it was, but he could feel it sliding between his slightly parted legs. He shivered in both apprehension and pleasure. He had gone to bed wanting, but unwilling to take care of it. Jonah often simply ignored his baser urges and hoped they would go away on their own. He had no one in his life who he trusted with the secret of his body. Jonah knew he simply would not be able to stomach being called a woman once again, not now that he knew how good and right it felt to be called a man. Revealing enough to have any sort of relations with anyone was too much of a risk. He did touch himself, occasionally, but he didn’t care for the... humanity of the gesture, he supposed. It made him feel weak.

There was nothing human or weak about this, though. The thing stroked him insistently until he was panting, its warm, wet tip teasing over his hole. It felt large, and Jonah was nervous about having it actually penetrate him, yet he also deeply longed for it. This was something he’d never had the chance to experience before, and he wanted to know what it was like. Jonah felt half-mad in such a wonderful way even considering it, having this ancient, nameless thing take his virtue. Unable to move or speak, Jonah could only think about pleading, but that was enough for the one watching him.

Jonah groaned as he was breached, something thick sinking slowly and insistently into him until he was entirely full. It gave him a moment to feel just that sensation, that alien fullness that made Jonah feel as if he were going to shatter into pieces. It hurt and felt incredible in equal measures, something that only intensified when it began thrusting in and out of him. Jonah found himself with no control over his voice, crying out again and again. Perhaps the gentleman he was during the day would have found it all mortifying, but right then Jonah cared for nothing but his master, the thing filling him, breaking him, Knowing him in his entirety. He was brought to completion more than once, and each time he shouted in ecstatic worship.

When Jonah really did wake, he was panting and sweaty. He lay still for a long time, simply trying to remember where and who he was. When he finally lifted his head to look out his window, he saw that the faint light of dawn was starting to creep over the city rooftops. He’d slept later than he had in quite a while. As he moved to get up, Jonah cringed a bit at the feeling of slickness between his legs. That certainly explained why he felt so sated. No matter, he could clean himself up easily enough. He felt very good, if he was honest with himself. The thing that watched him had given him quite the gift. Jonah was excited to find out what they would do together next.


	3. Gertrude/Elias, 100 words of getting raped by a mind-reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> Contains: rape/noncon, implied ongoing noncon relationship, verbal humiliation, mentioned Peter/Elias, orgasm denial, mind reading

James—no, Elias, he's been Elias for months now, he should be able to remember—is starting to regret choosing a body slightly smaller than his old one. It's only a difference of two inches from James' height, but it makes Gertrude look more imposing. She's still shorter than him, and possibly weaker in her more advanced age, but Elias knows not to underestimate her physical capabilities any more than he shouldn't underestimate her mental ones. He's not about to risk it enough to try and move from where she has him backed against the wall of his office. Elias would be more afraid, but he knows what she probably wants. His suspicions are confirmed when Gertrude undoes his trousers and unceremoniously shoves a hand into his pants, grasping his cock. He steadfastly refuses to give into the urge to cling to her as she strokes him, too dry, but still damnably enjoyable somehow. Gertrude gazes at Elias disdainfully, one eyebrow raised.

"This can't be your first time in this body, can it? I'd have thought Peter would have had a go by now, at the very least." Elias is about to deny that, say that the Lukases' patronage to the Institute would never be based on anything so unprofessional, but Gertrude scoffs and Elias realizes she knows he's lying before he even actually says the words. Elias has, in fact, had a few encounters with, yes, Peter, but Peter is hardly the most considerate lover, and he's left Elias to touch his own cock, so this sensation is fairly new. "Not quite as big as your old one. I can't say I'm not a bit disappointed," Gertrude says. "I suppose you always did prefer other positions anyway."

Elias flushes at the memories her words bring up, aroused and intimidated at the same time. Peter wasn't gentle with him, but Gertrude often verged on brutal, and it would surely only be more intense in this new body. Taking a toy was often harder than taking a cock, Elias had found. At least, that was the case with the ones Gertrude tended to use on him. Gertrude is smirking now, almost certainly skimming Elias' thoughts. She never did like using her powers, she said, yet Elias had found himself to be the exception to that rule many times now.

"Something on your mind?" Gertrude taunts, still stroking Elias, faster now.

"Why not make me tell you, Archivist?" Elias says. He's wondered many times what that would feel like, to be on the receiving end of the power Gertrude was so especially reluctant to use. Gertrude opens her mouth slightly, and Elias finds he can hardly breathe, caught so completely in anticipation. But then Gertrude closes her mouth, takes her hand off Elias, and steps back. Elias tries not to let his disappointment show on his face, but he's well aware that it does.

"You'd like it too much," Gertrude answers. And then she simply walks away, leaving Elias alone and, strangely, more angry with himself than with her.


	4. Evan/Peter, 100 words of pinned down and forced to take it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> Evan is formally initiated into the Lukas family. Contains: rape/noncon, uncle/nephew incest, implied Lukas family gangbang, crying

Evan screams as he’s breached, tries to squirm away, but whoever’s holding him down just presses their weight down harder. He gives up and just quietly sobs as a cock is relentlessly pushed into him. It hurts. He’d known this was coming, but it still hurts. Evan had wondered, sometimes, if he should have tried to prepare for it. He could have tried fingering himself, tried getting used to the sensation of having something inside him. In the end, he’d been too stubborn, too determined not to participate in his family’s twisted games. He wishes he hadn’t been. Surely anything would be better than this suffering.

“There you go. Took it like a champ.” Evan whimpers brokenly as he recognizes the voice. Uncle Peter. The man who had always seemed so cheerful and warm. Evan had known it was a lie since he was old enough to know what a lie was, but it still feels colder with that pretense stripped away.

“Now, Evan,” Peter says, sounding almost like he actually cares, “There’s no need to cry. Better me than your father first. He’s a real brute, trust me.” Evan can do nothing but let out desperate, gasping sobs, sloppy and pathetic. Peter reaches down to gently stroke his hair, and Evan violently flinches. Peter chuckles, the same way he does when someone makes a bad joke.

“Poor thing,” Peter remarks as he starts fucking Evan in earnest. “I do hope you end up being cut out for our family. Would be a real shame to lose another one so soon after your sister.”

Evan can do nothing but lie there and take it.


	5. Jon/Elias, 100 words of public discomfort after sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> Contains: slight dubcon implications, reference to rough sex, reference to rough oral sex, reference to fisting, bruises, Elias deliberately making Jon uncomfortable in public, exhibitionism implications

Jon is kicking himself. He had known Elias was insisting on him making an appearance at some Institute event this evening, and Jon had still let Elias get him into this state beforehand. Elias had been so convincing with those skilled hands and that damnably clever mouth. He had insisted it wouldn’t take too long, that they wouldn’t be late.

Well, they aren’t late. Jon is sore all over and so tired that he’s fighting the urge to lean on Elias for support, Elias seemingly encouraging it with his arm around Jon’s shoulders as it is. But they’re not late.

“Elias, good to see you! Who’s this gentleman?” A woman Jon has never seen before emerges from the crowd. Jon extends his hand to her and introduces himself.

“Jonathan Sims, I’m the Head Archivist here.” Jon feels a twinge of panic at how wrecked his voice sounds. The woman notices too, and as she shakes his hand, she asks,

“Are you all right? Pardon my saying so, but you sound sick.” Jon tries to will away the memory of Elias’ hands fisted in his hair as he brutally fucked Jon’s throat. It hurts when Jon nervously gulps before answering,

“Just a bit under the weather, I’m fine.” He perhaps sounds too hasty, as the woman gives him a concerned look, but then she starts chatting with Elias, and Jon is free to focus entirely on his own discomfort again. His hole aches—taking Elias’ entire hand had been a terrible idea, despite the orgasms he’d gotten out of it—and his cock is painfully oversensitive. He’s covered in bites and bruises, and he hopes against hope that his shirt collar is high enough to hide the ones littering his neck, but he’s almost certain it isn’t. There’s no way he can get through this without someone realizing, anyone who takes a good look at him will know.

The thought makes a shudder of arousal go through Jon, despite his exhaustion. Jon is quite aware of Elias shooting him a knowing look. Elias subtly presses his fingers into one of Jon’s bruises and Jon barely manages to remain silent. This will be a very long evening.


	6. Trans!Jonah, 100 words of standing before your own grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains: References to murder

Jonah Magnus stands before the grave of a maiden who died tragically young. She was unaware, those who mourned her said, that this would ever happen to her. That she would never marry, never have children. Jonah supposes that part is true. She was a good woman, studious and considerate, wonderful at carrying on conversations. That part is not true, Jonah knows. At least, those qualities were never meant for the life a good woman was expected to lead.

There were crueler whispers too. Those who said that she had deserved what she'd gotten, that she had always pushed too far, crept into places she didn't belong. That like all good men and women, she should have accepted her lot in life and not questioned that to which mankind was not given the answers. Some had even called her a devil worshiper. They were close, Jonah thinks.

There is a body beneath Jonah's feet, beneath the headstone bearing his old name, but it is not his. He hadn't even really thought she looked exactly like him, but they had believed it anyway. They never really had seen him, why would they start doing so at a murder scene? The fussing and the fear must have been quite the show, Jonah imagines, but being there for it had been too much of a risk. Perhaps his patron will reveal those events to him someday.

If he had to die, Jonah supposes he'd want it to be dramatic like that, exposed. He did enjoy being all over the papers, even if it was for a lie. But no. Jonah is not going to die. His name will never be on a gravestone.


	7. Jon/Elias and Jon/Martin, 100 Words of Lavish Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> Contains: noncon, brainwashing, implied ongoing noncon relationships

"No." Jon has no other words for the sight in front of him. All the horror he's eternally witnessing narrows to this single point, to Martin kneeling on the floor in front of him with Elias' hand rested atop his head. Jon hadn't thought it was possible, but Martin looks even more broken than he did when Jon found him in the Lonely, his eyes vacant and his face blank. He looks almost more like a doll than a person. Jon wishes he were, wishes this weren't the real Martin in front of him, but he Knows otherwise.  
  
"No? You don't want it? I can find you another gift, if you would prefer," Elias says.  
  
"No, no, I do want it, want _him,_ " Jon says hurriedly, terrified Elias will do something worse to Martin if he resists.  
  
"Then come take him," Elias says, stepping away from Martin. Jon just stands there, frozen in horror and grief until Elias speaks again. "Or would you rather he crawl to you? You can have him do that, just ask."  
  
"Of course not!" Jon snaps, striding over to Martin. "Martin, it's all right, you can get up." Martin doesn't respond save for looking up at Jon. When he sees Jon's face Martin's expression twists into a mockery of happiness, almost like the real smiles he used to give Jon, but _wrong_.  
  
"Oh, I'll teach you the commands later. Why not enjoy him on his knees for now?" Elias says. Jon looks back up at Elias, seething, wishing he could burn him alive with his gaze alone. Jon feels like he _should_ be able to, but the Ceaseless Watcher never seems to have that sort of mercy for Jon.  
  
"Just because that's what _you_ enjoy doesn't mean I want the same thing," Jon spits.  
  
"Still trying to lie to me, Jon? I'd have thought you would have learned better by now. Of course you want this. He's safe and happy." Jon knows it's a lie. He doesn't Know it is, but it has to be. Neither he nor Martin ever would have wanted this. "And all it would take to make him ecstatic is a little bit of your attention. He longs for you, Jon, you know that." A bitter echo resounds through Jon's mind, _I really loved you, you know._  
  
"Try it," Elias goads, "Just a hand in his hair is all he'll need." Jon doesn't want to, but when he looks back down and sees tears shining in Martin's eyes, he doesn't know what else to do. He whispers Martin's name, carefully stroking a hand through his hair. Martin makes a soft, sweet sound, and for just an instant, Jon feels better.  
  
Then Martin leans in and starts mouthing at Jon's crotch. A jolt of disgusted rage goes through Jon. What did Elias do to him? How did he _train_ Martin for this? Jon snaps his head back up to look Elias in the face.  
  
"What did you _do_ to him, Elias?" Jon growls, letting the static flow heavily into his voice. Elias inhales sharply, then shivers and lets out a sigh.  
  
"If you don't like your gift, Jon, I'm sure I can get some good use out of it. Shall I find you something else?" Despair pools in Jon's gut.  
  
"No," he says quietly. "I love it."  
  
Elias smiles as Jon unbuttons his trousers.


	8. Jon/Elias/OFC, 100 words of couples nonconning someone together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> Contains: noncon, noncon compulsion, noncon mind reading

She's scared. That's practically all she can think of. Fear freezes her in place, chilling her all too exposed body despite the heat radiating from the man behind her, fucking up into her in deep, unhurried strokes. How did this go so wrong?  
  
"You do this quite a lot, don't you?" Elias says from behind her, still speaking in the smooth, mocking tone that had lured her in back at the bar. She does do this a lot, couples are fun and she has a thing for older men. These two had seemed like they'd be a good time. She'd thought they were looking for the same thing she was, a casual night where no one really needs to know anything about each other except maybe names. Well, she does only know their names, but she feels like they already know far, far more about her than she'd ever want anyone to know.  
  
"Plenty of times," Jon says. Jon is the one who's really terrifying her here, even though he's barely touching her. Jon is crouched in front of her on the bed, holding her ankles open for Elias, and just _staring_ at her so, so intensely. She wishes she could look away. She can't. "Did you see that she met us in the bar that was her second choice for the evening?" Jon sounds like he's telling Elias a joke of some sort. "If she'd just stuck to her initial plan, this wouldn't have happened to her." Elias chuckles. Guess it was a good joke.  
  
"Well, isn't she the lucky one then." Elias strokes her hair affectionately as he says it, just the way her ex used to, and she shudders.  
  
"She doesn't seem to think so," Jon says. "Tell me, how can we make this better for you?"  
  
And to her shock, she tells them. Tells them all about how she likes to be touched, the words she likes to hear, how nice she'd thought both of their voices were back at the bar and how it had made her think about making Jon moan with his cock down her throat. She's horrified by every word that comes out of her mouth, but she can't stop until she's said it all, and once she's finished, Jon closes his eyes and sighs with pleasure. It's the first indication that he's even getting anything sexual out of this.  
  
"Very good," Jon says, his voice low and hungry-sounding. "Shall we give her what she wants, Elias?" Elias responds by shoving her forward so she's on her hands and knees. She whimpers as he slides roughly back into her. Jon grabs her by the hair and guides her head in between his legs. "Can you answer just a few more questions for me first?" Jon says, and she hates that they all know the answer is yes.


	9. Martin/Tentacles (and Jon), 100 words of tentacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> Contains: noncon, tentacles, trans Martin (uses the word cunt), triple penetration, noncon voyeurism and noncon recording (by Jon)

Martin would have screamed as he came if not for the tentacle filling his throat. He moans around it as best he can instead as the tentacles in his ass and cunt keep fucking him, wringing all the pleasure they can out of Martin as he writhes. It’s only when he’s starting to come down from his orgasm that he realizes.  
  
_Something isn’t right._  
  
No, it’s more than that, more than not right, something is wrong. How did he get here? How long has he been here? What is this thing trapping him in its warm, dark, inescapable embrace? The tentacles are still thrusting mercilessly inside him, and it’s almost starting to hurt. This isn’t... he didn’t... Martin doesn’t want this. He wants this to stop. He can’t say anything with the tentacle in his mouth, probing at the entrance to his throat, but he forms muffled words around it anyway, _stop_ and _don’t_ and _please._  
  
“Just a little more for me, Martin,” says a familiar voice. This calms Martin, somehow. He can’t put a name to it, his thoughts getting increasingly fuzzy, but he knows that voice, trusts it. He lets it, along with the tentacles fucking deep into him, pull him back down into a haze, where nothing but the wonderful feeling of being so thoroughly used exists.  
  
—  
  
Jon lets out a little sigh of relief as Martin stops struggling again. He gets like this after every orgasm, this one being his fourth. Jon still needs more data. Will there come a point when Martin stops struggling entirely, and if so, when will it be? Or will there come a point where he starts fighting every bit of it? Jon doesn’t know, and he craves to. He needs to study the Leitner that’s doing this to Martin, of course, but Jon also wants to witness and catalogue every one of Martin’s reactions to it. Jon doesn’t take his eyes off of Martin for an instant. He knows there’s plenty of tape left. He already can’t wait to listen to the recording.


	10. Julia/Jon, 100 Words of Unexpected Masochists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> Contains: noncon, trans Jon, bondage, knifeplay including cutting, ruined orgasm, fear of being killed, reference to self harm

"That's it, Archivist, cry for me." Julia's voice is low, almost a growl, as she rocks her hips against Jon's. Her movements aren't gentle, but they are unhurried. After all, she has all the time she could want to savor her prey. Jon is tied to a chair with Julia straddling him. He's blindfolded and shirtless and he feels horribly, exhilaratingly vulnerable. Julia is holding a knife, and though she's already made several cuts, none of the fear has dissipated. Every touch of cold metal to Jon's skin makes him flinch anew, every cut makes him gasp and whimper.  
  
"You're liking this a bit, aren't you?" Julia says. The damnable thing is that she's right. Jon can't remember ever being this wet. The only thing that's ever gotten him nearly this aroused were the times at the wax museum when he'd hear footsteps approaching him and think he was about to die. He doesn't know when those wires got crossed and right now he doesn't care, all he cares about is that Julia's hips are just shy of where they need to be.  
  
"Guess I shouldn't be surprised. We're all a little mixed up like that, aren't we?" Jon groans as Julia cuts a long, deep line across his chest. He wonders wildly if it will even scar. He cut his hand open with a letter opener the other week and it was gone the next day. He tells himself it wasn't on purpose, but he knows he's lying. Julia's movements speed up as she makes the next cut, still short of where Jon needs her.  
  
Jon's breath stops when Julia presses the point of the knife against his throat.  
  
"Please," he begs instinctively. He doesn't want to die. Julia growls.  
  
"Afraid you don't get a say in that," she says, and swipes the knife down, catching against Jon's collarbone for an instant before slicing across his ribcage. Jon screams and _comes_ , just like that. He strains against his bonds as he does, trying to arch his hips up into Julia's, to get any friction he can. It's not enough, and his orgasm is unsatisfying. Julia laughs.  
  
"Oh, didn't think it was like _that_. You're even more fun than I thought." Julia pushes a hand between Jon's legs, pressing her fingers against his damp jeans, and Jon moans, but all too soon, the hand is drawn away again.  
  
"Wonder how many more of those I can get out of you before Trevor gets back. Try not to tire yourself out too much, I'm sure he'll want a turn too." Jon sobs, but he can't even pretend he's not excited by the threat.


	11. Jon/Elias, Jon/Various, 100 words of noncon gangbangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> Contains: noncon, violence, mentions of a whole lot of stuff including choking, beholding kink

Jon doesn't know how everything went so, so wrong. This job had been going well, he thought. He thought his boss had liked him. He'd never, in his wildest nightmares, have thought anything like this would possibly happen. Could possibly happen.  
  
Jon has been grabbed, and touched, and _fucked_ over and over and over again, exactly thirteen times, in fact, though how he's still coherent enough to keep track, he has no idea. He's been manhandled and bitten and bruised, and had much stranger things happen to him as well, and somehow, throughout all of it, he's been conscious. Even when he thought he really might die here, he's stayed conscious, horribly aware of everything that's happening to him.  
  
He tries to go over it all in his head, now that it's stopped. He thinks for a brief, foolish moment that it will ground him. It does the opposite. Recalling things that were, yet couldn't possibly have been, Jon feels floaty and distant from himself, almost cataloging his own trauma. Like a proper archivist, he supposes. He's been choked, flung, brutalized. Been dragged back in as he struggled to get away. Been used. Been controlled, always controlled. He's hurt and longed and feared, feared so much. Felt disgustingly loved. Been confused, disoriented, blinded. And throughout it all, he has never for a second been able to forget that he is being _watched_.  
  
"Very, very well done, Archivist." The man who has been watching, intent and enthralled, this entire time finally speaks.  
  
"Why..." is all Jon can say, his voice weak and exhausted.  
  
"Let me show you," Elias says, leaning over Jon, pulling Jon's hips against his. His cock slides against Jon's sloppy, wrecked hole, and Jon shudders.  
  
"No," Jon says, pushing weakly at Elias' chest. It changes nothing, and he groans quietly as Elias pushes into him. It's effortless, Jon is so open. Jon is terribly sore and even though Elias' thrusts are gentle, careful even, it hurts.  
  
"Jon," Elias says, his voice soft, "look at me." Jon shakes his head, but Elias takes hold of his chin and forces their eyes to meet. Jon can't close his. He knows that, somehow. As Elias gazes down at Jon, smiling almost warmly, Jon _understands_. He understands fear, its shape, its importance. Understands the form of what he is about to create, and the fact that he is about to create it. Understands the reason, the necessity, behind what Elias just put him through. It's so much at once, Jon feels as if he isn't quite occupying his body for a moment, and when he comes back to himself Elias is fucking him faster, beaming down at him.  
  
"There," Elias says, ecstatic, reverent. "Now you See."  
  
Jon does. And as much as the human part of him knows he should hate it, want nothing to do with it, never, ever want to see it come to pass, he can't lie to himself that way. He _wants_ this. He clings to Elias' shirt as he rocks back against him, accepting everything, everything Elias wants him to be. Jon knows that they come almost together, feeling Elias' orgasm echo inside his own head for a moment. When it's over, Jon lies back, almost entirely drained. Almost.  
  
"Here, Archivist," Elias says, handing Jon a small piece of paper. "Read this."  
  
And Jon does.


End file.
